


Sleepless

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy is strange around the matter of making love. Thomas finds out why.<br/>Tags are spoilery so I haven't used them. No common trigger warnings apply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> Sort-of, somewhat, vaguely inspired by camaelczarka's absolutely stunning fic Dreamscapes (I will never recover from that fic, or the fact that it stops in such a sad place). I was reading it while the idea came to me, anyways, and I think I've accidentally inherited some of the mood/language/characterisation. It combines a few half-ideas I've had, actually; much of the dialogue in the flashback scene was written in January and just awaiting its moment.

Jimmy was strange around the matter of making love. He liked for them to be kissing as they came, but always seemed to be putting more effort and concentration into the kissing than anything else. Thomas pondered the matter sometimes, in quiet moments snatched from the jaws of a job that threatened to consume everything.

It was not that Jimmy did anything _wrong_ \- he was just… well - strange. He seemed to enjoy figuratively wrapping Thomas around his little finger until he was gasping and trembling on the mattress - but, fairly often, when Thomas tried to reciprocate, Jimmy would take Thomas's hands away from his body and simply kiss his fingers tenderly. Other times, if they rubbed against each other, he would tell Thomas he had come, even though Thomas could feel that he was still hard against his body.

Sometimes, if he let himself dwell on the matter too long, a fear bubbled up that he was somehow _using_ Jimmy - that maybe Jimmy did not want this relationship at all. Had it all come from Thomas's voracious need for love - had he conjured his memories of Jimmy's sweet smiles and gentle shifting against his body from his own cupidity? If ever he touched upon the topic with Jimmy himself, a look of great anxiety would take over Jimmy's face, and he would stutter: "I want to make you _happy_ ," and the depths of sincere feeling in his eyes would reassure Thomas for a while longer. But then he would be caught in the reverse predicament - that of consoling Jimmy that of _course_ Thomas was happy with him, that with Jimmy there was an _energy_ to the world that Thomas had never experienced before. After that, Jimmy would spoon up behind him for a while, stirring Thomas's hair with his gentle breathing, before Thomas had to return to his room.

It was usually Thomas who came to Jimmy; it was that little bit further away from Mr Carson's room, even if it was closer to Alfred's. The undercurrent of fear underpinned Thomas's days; a slight understated thrill that started moments after he opened his eyes in an empty bed and never waning until he had slipped away from Jimmy's gentle touches and back to his own room. That was when the fear would give way to soul-deep sorrow at their inability to sleep _together_ , with Jimmy's arms around him and his lips soft against the back of Thomas's neck; Thomas had always slept curled up tight like an infant.

Thomas had given up his acrimony about the matter of secrecy. Though once he had carried the anger as a flame against a dark world, it had come to a point when it had only burned himself, leaving his throat scorched and aching, his nose sore with the drought that preceded the tears. But there was Jimmy to warm him now.

Alone in his room one night, Thomas gazed, insomnious and unseeing, at the dark floor, and replayed in his head that first night Jimmy had come to him. His sock-covered feet must have been quiet on the floorboards, because the first Thomas knew of his presence had been after Jimmy shook him awake. Thomas had awoken with Jimmy's hand over his mouth, which had probably made him more eager to shout than if Jimmy had simply called his name. Alarm had made him scramble backwards, before he realised who it was and registered the trepidation in Jimmy's expression.

"What are you doing?" Thomas had whispered.

"I thought everyone would be asleep," Jimmy had breathed, retreating a couple of steps and making the candle he had been holding flicker as Thomas shifted.

Thomas had sat hunched forward and screwed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he could look at Jimmy without squinting. "What are you _doing_?" he had repeated.

Jimmy had bounced on his heels a few times, staring towards the door as though he was considering bolting through it.

"Oh no you don't," Thomas had whispered, swinging his legs out of bed to enable him to lean forwards enough to grab Jimmy's wrist and tug him closer. "You've woken me up now, the least you can do is tell me what's wrong." He had waited with his legs crossed under the blanket, his hands in his lap on the top.

Jimmy had put his candle on Thomas's bedside table and sunk onto one folded leg, sitting in front of Thomas with the other foot still in contact with the floor. "Nothing's wrong," he had murmured, and though his smile was shaky there had been something in the way he looked into Thomas's eyes that made Thomas tremble deep inside. "Nothing's wrong," he had repeated vaguely, his voice barely audible and his eyes cast downwards at his own hand as it crept out to trace lightly over the back of Thomas's.

At the sensation, Thomas's eyes had snapped to the point of contact, before flying back up to Jimmy's face. It was not that Jimmy _never_ touched him, but it had never been like this; never a… a _caress_.

Jimmy had met his eyes again. "I can't hide it any more."

Briefly, Thomas's grasp on reality had become tenuous, so gripped was he by the notion that Jimmy had stepped straight out of one of his daydreams. "Hide what?"

"Hhhh-how I feel about you," Jimmy had replied, as though the words had been dragged from his throat.

Now Thomas might have been sleep-addled, but he was not so slow as to not have known exactly what Jimmy was getting at. However, while most of his brain had been singing in elation, he had known that he had to be _sure_ \- absolutely, completely, without-a-doubt, unquestionably _certain_ \- that the two of them were on the same page, and so he had managed to choke out: "And how's that?"

Jimmy had gazed at him for a moment, with a sort of pleading expression, before leaning over Thomas and, with the hand that he had not put out to balance his weight on, cupping his cheek.

Instinctively, though he had hardly dared believe it, Thomas had known that Jimmy was leaning in for a kiss, and had tipped his head to meet Jimmy's lips. It had certainly made his feelings clear, without-a-doubt - and Thomas had been reminded of another darkened bedroom, another kiss, and another reaction altogether. Unexpectedly, under the pounding joy, under the perfection of Jimmy's lips, the memory of that first kiss had played out, along with every hateful word Jimmy had spoken after it… and a deep anger had welled up inside him.

There had been surprise on Jimmy's face as he found himself being shoved away. "You _bastard_ ," Thomas had hissed, to hide his pain at having to reject the very thing he most wanted. "After everything you said, and now you think… Hypocritical, cruel _bastard_."

To his shock, Jimmy had begun to _cry_. He had pressed his hands to his mouth, trying to stifle his sobs. Thomas had been unmoved by the sight of the tears making their way down his lightly freckled cheeks. "I'm sorry, I know - I - I said some horrible things to you, and I was wrong, but I'm not a hypocrite, I promise, I -" He had broken off.

Thomas had glared at him. "Then what do you call _this_?"

"I didn't _know_ before," Jimmy had whimpered, and at last his predicament had pulled at Thomas's heart.

He had sighed. "Alright," he had murmured softly, reaching out to grip his upper arm. "It's alright. Just calm down." He had rubbed his thumb over the sleeve of Jimmy's undershirt until Jimmy had got his tears under control. "Now tell me," he had said more sternly as he leaned back. "What's been going on?"

"I - I thought… Well, I thought it was all about… you know."

"I don't even know what 'it' is," Thomas had said, as calmly as he could when he was still torn between punching Jimmy in the face and pressing his lips to his throat.

Jimmy had taken a deep breath and closed his eyes, apparently steeling himself. "Being like you," he had said quietly, meeting Thomas's gaze again. "I thought it meant that you had to want… to… you _know_. Put… a bit of you… in someone else." He had paused, as if to check for Thomas's comprehension.

"Right…" Thomas had said slowly, to indicate his understanding and prompt Jimmy to continue.

"Well I - maybe I should have started with this." His eyes had dropped as one hand went to the back of his own neck, but he looked up again as he resumed whispering. "I'm messing this up. I always thought that was what it meant, so I thought I wasn't like that, because I didn't - I don't - want to do it. I never knew, honestly. I know I was cruel, but I'm not a hypocrite. I-I do like you. If… If you'll have me, I want to be with you. I just don't want to… you know. Yet."

Jimmy had shifted closer as he was speaking, sitting on his heels and leaning forward until their faces were inches apart. Thomas had found himself overwhelmed by the proximity as Jimmy's words danced between them; _I do like you_. His tongue had felt too heavy. "We don't have to do that," he had said, realising belatedly that he had perhaps made it too personal; maybe he should have made the statement more abstract? But by then it had been too late, and his weakness had been clearly on show. The weakness that said he would not refuse Jimmy. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"You'll forgive me, then?" Jimmy had whispered uncertainly, laying one hand on Thomas's knee.

"Even though you were a little shit to me for a year?" Thomas had murmured wryly.

"And even though I still won't do what you want."

"Hey…" Thomas had breathed, encouraging Jimmy to shuffle round to sit beside him and putting an arm around him. "All I want is to make you happy. You're my best friend, and that won't change, even if you're sure you want -"

"I am sure," Jimmy had interrupted. "Despite…"

"We don't _ever_ have to do it if you don't want to," Thomas had assured him, stretching his legs out in front of him now that Jimmy had stopped being an obstacle. It had felt so good to have Jimmy so close to him. "I never have."

Jimmy had pulled back far enough to fix him with a surprised, intrigued expression. "Haven't you? But I thought you'd been with loads of men."

Thomas had chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to the top of Jimmy's head. "Four, in fact. And I've done things that I would call sex, but I've never actually… done that."

When Jimmy had shifted against him, turning his head into Thomas's shoulder, it had been as though they had been snuggling up together night-after-night for years. His heart had warmed at the thought.

"Why not?" Jimmy had asked sleepily.

"It never much appealed to me either," he had replied honestly. He had slid the hand that was not around Jimmy's shoulders onto Jimmy's thigh. "There are plenty of other perfectly satisfying activities," he had added, shifting his palm a couple of inches as the candlelight licked across the back of his hand.

"I like this for now," Jimmy had said timidly. He had pressed more closely against Thomas's side.

As he held Jimmy tighter, a smile had taken over Thomas's face. "So do I."

A rustling noise now interrupted Thomas's reverie; he recognised it as Jimmy stroking his fingers against the door. He struck a match for the candle and a moment later the door slid open silently. Jimmy slipped inside the room. As he turned to ease the door closed, Thomas caught the pinched look of anxiety on his face before it melted as Jimmy smiled at him.

"Hello," he whispered as he tiptoed over.

Thomas sat up and dangled his legs over the edge of the bed; Jimmy came to a stop between his knees, looking down into Thomas's face. Thomas held him, letting his hands rest in the small of Jimmy's back. "Hello, love. Everythin' alright?"

"Can't sleep," Jimmy mumbled back, brushing Thomas's fringe out of his eyes before pressing kisses to both of Thomas's cheeks in turn, followed by his lips.

"Come in for a bit, then," Thomas replied, half suggestion, half request, while tightening his hold around Jimmy's waist in encouragement.

Jimmy nodded, smiled a little, and climbed into bed with Thomas. The tiny bed forced them to lie close together, but they hardly minded.

"I can think of something to tire you out," Thomas breathed, trailing a hand down Jimmy's chest and over his stomach; but before he could reach any lower, Jimmy caught his hand and interlaced their fingers.

"Can't we just… lie here?" he asked in a very small voice, inclining forwards as he spoke.

Thomas frowned, confused to have been diverted yet again. Still craving closeness, he kissed Jimmy's forehead before saying: "Do you… not _like_ sex, or something?"

Jimmy's eyes dropped briefly away, as though he was considering artifice, before he murmured: "Not really."

In his chest, Thomas thought that his heart might have sunk through the mattress. "Oh," he said hollowly. Had he not been pleasing Jimmy? Was that why he never initiated anything? Thomas had assumed it was nerves. "Is it my fault? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, _no_ ," Jimmy insisted, now leaning so close that they were both cross-eyed. Thomas wished that they could safely carry out this conversation at a slightly more audible volume. Jimmy had stopped whispering, probably because his throat had become fatigued, but they were both practised at speaking in very low voices. "It's not your fault. It's just… I never… Well, you know how most men see a woman they like and they think she's pretty and want to -" He broke off, his face flushing. "Have sex with her," he finished, so quietly that Thomas could barely hear him.

"Yes…" Thomas said, wondering what he was getting at.

"You know how you _don't_?"

How could he forget? The world seemed to make a point of telling him how different and depraved he was at every opportunity.

Jimmy licked his lips. "You see, I _don't_ , about everyone."

Thomas blinked under Jimmy's close scrutiny. He seemed to be searching Thomas's face for something, but all Thomas could feel was confusion. "So… you don't like me?"

Under the blankets, Jimmy squeezed Thomas's hand. "I _love_ you," he whispered precisely. "I do. It's just… the sex. I never see someone and want to do it. It… It isn't a part of me loving you, really. I'd be just as happy if we didn't do it."

Thomas frowned at him with his mouth open, trying to reach some kind of comprehension. It was not that Jimmy's words were ambiguous, but they were outside what Thomas had ever thought of as being in love, as something that included sex as a way of showing it.

"I like doing it to you, sometimes," Jimmy added, when Thomas had been quiet for a while. "I know you like it, and I like making you happy." He let go of Thomas's hand to stroke his cheek, before lingering over a kiss. "Plus, you're cute when you get all sleepy afterwards. But, maybe we could do it less often?"

Currently, they met up at night around three times a week, having sex on one or two of those visits, which Thomas thought was a perfectly acceptable amount. Not that he had any idea what a 'normal' frequency might be, if any such thing existed. But it seemed little enough already, and Jimmy wanted to do it less? Abruptly, a thought cut through his self-centeredness: _Jimmy had sex with you when he didn't want to_. "Oh, God," he mumbled. "Have I… Have you felt pressured into doing it with me?"

Jimmy's face creased with uncertainty. "I don't know," he whispered after a moment, shrugging as best he could while lying down and still having one hand on Thomas's cheek.

At his words, Thomas felt a chill, as though all his internal organs had frozen over like the battle-torn bodies had in winter. Had he _forced_ Jimmy?

Jimmy picked up on Thomas's stricken expression and added hastily: "Not by _you_. Just… generally. I suppose it feels like what I have to do in a relationship to make it work."

The unease lessened, but did not entirely leave Thomas. He would certainly think twice before initiating anything in future.

"Do you hate me now?"

Thomas did not hesitate. "No, love, of course not." He threaded his fingers through Jimmy's again. "I'm glad you told me. You just tell me if you don't want to do something, alright? You know I'll listen."

A brilliant smile lit Jimmy's face. "Yeah. I know you will."

For a few seconds they smiled tenderly at each other. Thomas's heart lightened at Jimmy's brave honesty and at finally understanding how he felt.

"I should go back to bed…" The regret was clear in Jimmy's voice.

"Alright," Thomas agreed softly, wishing again that they could fall asleep together. Maybe one day.

Jimmy kissed him on the forehead before slipping out of bed, blowing out the candle as he passed. Thomas gazed at the dark floorboards as Jimmy's sock-covered feet padded over them.

In the pitch-blackness, Thomas felt Jimmy pause at the door, before slipping out into the hall, as quiet as a shadow.

**Author's Note:**

> Asexual homo-/biromantic Jimmy is my jam.


End file.
